


sleep for today

by braigwen_s



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Implied/Referenced Ableism, Light Angst, Maybe The Real General Hugs Was The Leia We Found Along The Way, Napping, Platonic Cuddling, Poe Dameron & Leia Organa Friendship, Post-TLJ, Space Mom Leia Organa, With Cameo From: Chewbacca
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:55:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29258559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/braigwen_s/pseuds/braigwen_s
Summary: The General was sitting on her bed, legs swung over the edge, holo-projected maps and datapads scattered around her in a sort of strictly-regimented chaos.  “Hey, Jefa,” he said.
Relationships: Poe Dameron & Leia Organa
Comments: 3
Kudos: 5





	sleep for today

**Author's Note:**

> Title from "Tomorrow we Fight" by Ruelle.

“How is she?” asked Poe, quietly.

Lieutenant Kaydel Ko Connix flashed him a tired smile. “She’s sitting up,” she said, matching his low volume. “You can go in, Commander.”

He patted her shoulder, and rapped at the door. After this warning, he gave a few seconds’ grace before entering the General’s bedroom. On _Tantive IV_ , the doors were something like portholes; Poe had to duck his head to make his way into the room. The General was sitting on her bed, legs swung over the edge, holo-projected maps and datapads scattered around her in a sort of strictly-regimented chaos. He could tell that she had just sat up; Kaydel would have known to anticipate that, just as Kaydel would have known the General wouldn’t mind him entering. The blanket on the bed was still rumpled. Poe made the decision to match the informality of the situation he was greeted with. “Hey, _Jefa_ ,” he said, forcing the sides of his mouth up into a grin. It was easier than he had expected, because as well as the aching in his chest there was also a light fondness. Seeing the General like this wasn’t so far removed to how she might have been during the cold war, back on D’qar, casual and comfortable and waiting expectantly for somebody or other to swoop in and cuddle her. She may have been lying in bed out of need instead of, strictly, choice, but the association had been made, nevertheless, and so Poe smiled.

“Hello, Commander Dameron,” she said, and when he couldn’t obscure his face crumbling she waved a hand in dismissal, an ‘I was joking,’ and corrected herself to “Hey, _mijo_.”

“That’s more like it,” he said.

“Take a seat,” she said, waving the hand again, this time in invitation. He could have sat in the chair in her room, but she had gestured to the bed next to her, so he carefully moved various pieces of classified intel so they wouldn’t stick up his butt, smoothed out the bit of blanket he had just cleared, and sat. He was half-turned towards the General, the other half facing the door, and while one foot was on the floor, the other he tucked underneath himself. The General made a show of squinting through the door into the corridor for witnesses, then, with all due ceremony, shoved the datapads onto the floor. Poe winced at the clatter, knowing someone would rush inside to make sure everything was okay.

Sure enough, Kaydel Connix rapped her knuckles on the thin wall even as she poked her head through the porthole-door. Poe looked at her helplessly. The General looked at her smugly. Kaydel looked down at the datapads and projectors, seemed to reassure herself they weren’t broken, then, with one last suspicious squint, obeyed the General’s gestured and muttered order to ‘oh, kark off’.

“Was that really necessary?” he asked, and she grinned at him, and Poe was pretty sure his heart was too fragile to receive that. Something coiled and anxious deep in him seemed to stretch out, yawning, suddenly more confident.

“Very necessary,” she said, and sat for a moment, clearly caught between two decisions. Poe waited, silent and still, for what seemed like a lot longer than it probably actually was, until she nodded slightly, turned away from Poe, and pulled her legs back onto the bed. Her face didn’t flicker, but he could still tell, she was in pain. He adjusted his own seating, ready to catch her, and she lowered herself against his shoulder, half against him, half snuggled into his lap.

Poe rubbed his thumb backwards and forwards on her arm, then brushed a black curl from his face, ducked over for a moment, and pressed a light, brief kiss to her forehead. “You can go to sleep,” he told her, quietly. “I didn’t come to talk, not really, definitely not anything specific. I just came to – spend time with you.” He nearly said more than that, he nearly said ‘you are the place I go to when I don’t know what I’m doing, not to tell me what I’m doing but because you always know the answer, and at least somebody near me does, that way’. He didn’t, though. That would be a burden on her shoulders, and he knew, he _saw_ , he witnessed firsthand how the ones she had already weighed her down almost to the floor. They were so many, and so heavy. The absolute least that he could do was let her rest.

“I need to do strategy work,” she said, but her voice was neither reproachful nor nearing sleep; instead, it was grumpy, complaining. The fondness plucked at Poe’s chest. He felt it ruffle the fabric of his flight suit, like the wind of a motion.

“That’s what a right-hand man is for, sometimes,” he pointed out. He was exhausted, run off his feet, but he could always make time for Leia. He _did_ always make time for Leia. Because there was duty, and then there was family, and Poe Dameron knew that nothing was more important than either.

“Poe,” she said, and rolled over, sitting back up. He helped her, lifting up her shoulders so she could move more easily. She studied him, critically, piercingly, the sort of gaze that seemed to go far deeper than your flesh and read your soul. “You don’t respect me any less,” she said. “Why?”

For a split-second of unmoored terror, he thought it was about how she had struck him after the loss of the fleet. He did respect her less, for that, but didn’t love her any less – it was a … it was a whole, stinking, Sith-spawned _mess_. Neither of them had coped with it, and they had lost respect for each other, but they were… that was something they _were_ coping with, at least. But then he realised she wasn’t talking about that, and his terror turned to sorrow and some anger. She was referring to the state of her health, and to the fact that Poe helped her make simple movements and checked in quietly with Kaydel before coming over to her, which he had never done before the previous few weeks (it had always just been ‘Poe knocks and asks to enter; Leia tells him to come in or bugger off, one of the two’).

“Of course I don’t respect you any less,” he said, nearly stumbling over his words. He ran a hand through his hair, shaking his head. “Why in the Galaxy would I do that?”

It was a genuine question. Poe knew that some people (some ableist people, he added as a corollary) would think less of somebody for losing physical capacity. But he also knew that Leia knew him, and that he was not one of ‘some people’. But even if he had been… it had in no way been her fault, and it was a miracle she was alive, and he was thrilled to pieces and relieved in a way that glued the pieces back together and she was still the famed, fearsome, firebrand, determined, snarky, righteous _Leia_ , no matter if she needed to rest more and couldn’t run like she used to. She was still his General.

She huffed out a breath and smiled at his question. “Not many people’s respect for a leader would be intact when their organisation's in pieces and she just lies around dozing.”

Poe opened his mouth to swear, closed it, and opened it again to say a more sensible, “What can I say, I’m a rare breed.” she narrowed her eyes at him, so he shrugged, sighed, and spent a minute working out how to phrase a more serious reply to her words, gnawing upon his lower lip. “Right now, lying around dozing is the most productive thing you can do for the Resistance. We need our General, and we need her as close to ‘healthy’ as we can.” He saw the flash of guilt in her brown eyes, and lowered his voice to something nobody outside the door could hear if they happened to be trying. He didn’t think that Kaydel would eavesdrop on either of them, but what did he know? Somebody might be. “I know that might not happen. But we still need our General. And it’s better for morale if you’re –” He cut himself off, his eyes stinging. “I know we’re not going to be alright. Any of us. But I need… I need you to... look after yourself, at least. I don’t know too much about respect, I’ve never followed an order I think is wrong, but I do know that you are so, so important.”

“And what about you?” she countered him, as he did his darndest to hold back tears. “I need _you_ to look after _your_ self, Poe.”

“I’m not important,” he said, wiping his nose on his sleeve. At her look, he said, “Well, I mean, not important the way you are. I’m a flyboy. There’s only the one Leia Organa.”

“Where are the other Poe Damerons?” she asked. Something was becoming strained behind her voice. Whatever had uncoiled itself deep inside him reared itself back anxiously. Tilting his head high, he surrendered like a true soldier.

“I’m a rare breed, like I just said. Come on, how about if we both rest for a bit?”

“Hm,” she said, dubiously, but spun herself around to, once more, lie down in the nest made from his knees. She reached up with one arm, grasped Poe, and tugged determinedly downwards.

“Okay, okay, yes, _Jefa_ ,” he said, and let himself fall onto his elbows. He really was very tied.

He blinked, just once, and opened his eyes an hour later. One of Leia’s thick, weather-beaten hands was tangled with one of his, and his chin was resting on top of it. He was turned to face the door, curled up, ready to spring into a protective stance and defend her. She frowned, her eyes still shut in sleep, and shook her head just a little. She looked worried – well, more worried than usual. He wanted to reassure her, to say “it’ll be alright,” but who could say that? He was, at his core, an honest man. Her skin was paler than his, of course, but it seemed to him the contrast had increased – she was paler, nearing ‘pallid’. There were deep rings of pain and exhaustion beneath her eyes, but he knew that he carried those too. Carefully, he extricated himself from her tight grasp. He slid himself from the bed onto the floor, carefully gathered up and stacked the datapads and holoprojectors she had shoved there, and set them down on a corner of her clean desk. She was lying on top of the blanket, but he found a threadbare violet shawl draped over a chair back, and arranged it on her shoulders. Her feet were bare, he hadn’t noticed that all this time, and it was so typically _Leia_ of her. “Rest well, General,” he whispered, and backed out of the room.

He found himself face-to-face with Chewbacca, who set upon him (quietly, of course, and also approvingly, to boot) in mockery, pointing and jabbing towards his chest. “I know, I know,” he hissed, to Chewie’s shrugged reply, “I fell asleep. Save it for later.” Half to himself, as he fixed his hair with his hands, he added, “I was just following orders.”


End file.
